


Time Well Served

by mikaylamazing



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Detention, Fluff, M/M, post 3x17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-08 04:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19863244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikaylamazing/pseuds/mikaylamazing
Summary: While serving lunch detention, Cyrus learns something new about TJ.





	Time Well Served

Cyrus is walking pretty leisurely, foolishly taking his time until he glances at his phone screen and sees that he’s about to be late. It’s the first – and hopefully last – time he’s ever been given detention, and he’s already giving a bad impression. He doesn’t want the teacher monitoring to think he’s some kind of delinquent. He’s a good boy, genuinely! Besides, is it really all that bad to have fun with a friend, especially if no one got hurt? Cyrus will be the first to admit that breaking a rule of any kind is out of character for him, but all things considered, he doesn’t think his foray into criminality is reason to think differently of him. He just hopes that the detention monitor will agree.

Cyrus is a little stressed; his hands are damp with sweat, but he’s also excited to see TJ again. And really, isn’t that what got him here in the first place? He shakes out his extremities, hoping that his nerves will just tumble off of him. When he walks into the choir room, he’s not really sure what he’s supposed to do. Every sound he makes, from his breaths to his footsteps, feel too loud for the room, and he feels like he could be berated at the drop of a pin. It only takes a second for him to lock eyes on TJ, sitting at the old piano tucked in the corner of the room. Another cursory glance around the room and Cyrus finally takes notice of the teacher supervising. Allegedly supervising. He’s fast asleep, head lolled over on one shoulder and snoring deeply. The sound is jarring once Cyrus is aware of it, and for the first time since being given detention, Cyrus thinks they could leave without facing any serious consequences. Maybe this new life of crime has gotten the better of him.

He ignores the thought, looking back at TJ, who still hasn’t seemed to notice his presence. They could leave, but Cyrus kind of wants to spend time alone with TJ. And there’s nothing wrong with that. So he slowly walks up to the bench TJ is sitting on, incredibly quiet, before reaching out and tapping his shoulder.

Cyrus is proud to say that TJ jumps a little, hitting random keys that ring out discordantly. Cyrus has never scared anyone before, and he has to try extra hard not to bust out laughing. They both look over to the teacher, who miraculously, is still asleep. They both laugh, little choked off sounds, TJ shoving Cyrus lightly. TJ slides over a bit. It’s all the invitation Cyrus needs to sit down beside him. He slides over just a little closer than necessary, hoping to play it off as a miscalculation of space on his part.

TJ doesn’t seem to mind. He smiles down at the keys and then at the tiny stretch of lacquered wood between their hands, where their fingers almost touch. Cyrus can feel himself begin to blush, but he shakes it off and tries to divert attention away from himself.

“So,” he whispers, though he’s not entirely sure that he needs to at this point, “are you some kind of piano prodigy in addition to being a star basketball player?” He’s joking, but TJ sits up straighter and squares his shoulders, bringing his hands to hover right about the keys. His fingers move in the way of someone with years of experience, playing a melancholy tune that sounds vaguely familiar to him. Cyrus’s jaw drops. When TJ finally faces Cyrus again, he looks smug. Cyrus closes his mouth.

“Oh, I get it. You stole 90% of the talent out of Shadyside which is why I can’t do anything. It all makes sense now,” Cyrus teases, hitting their shoulders together. If it’s an unnecessary ploy to create more physical contact between them, TJ doesn’t have to know. TJ rolls his eyes.

“I’ve just practiced a lot. I’m sure you could learn a song if you wanted to.”

“Actually, I know how to play Chopsticks,” Cyrus declares, entirely too confident for someone who hasn’t even touched a piano in well over four years. He steadies his hands as he looks for the right keys, making them into fists and then extending his index fingers. He presses down, too hard, and not the right notes at all. And really, it’s two fingers. Most five-year-olds could probably accomplish what he’s trying to do. He can see TJ flinch out of the corner of his eye, but Cyrus is unfazed, somewhat expectant of his own failure by now. It doesn’t stop him from trying again.

“Wait,” he says, readjusting his hands. It somehow sounds worse than the first time. He’s getting ready to try another combination when suddenly TJ’s hands are gently wrapped around his wrists. Cyrus can feel his heart rate spike.

“Here,” TJ whispers. He releases one hand, bringing his arm to curl around Cyrus’s back. TJ takes his hand again, this time placing his own on top and guiding them to the correct spots and pressing down once, then six times in quick succession. And if Cyrus wasn’t already blushing before, he definitely was now, vulnerable with no hands to hide his face in or way to turn his body away. Completely and utterly trapped by TJ Kippen. He can’t say he expected this to come of a simple lunch detention. Cyrus clears his throat with moderate difficulty.

“So, I can’t play Chopsticks,” Cyrus says nervously, letting out an awkward laugh. TJ smiles.

“Maybe I can teach you sometime.”

“I can’t promise that I’ll be a good student. Or even an okay student.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

TJ’s arm is still around him. They’re still incredibly close, closer than when Cyrus first sat down. Their hands are still touching.

Cyrus looks up from the piano, and their eyes connect, for too many seconds and not enough seconds, simultaneously. When Cyrus opens his mouth to say something, it’s interrupted by a slightly louder snore and subsequent throat clearing. He’s grateful for the distraction because he’s honestly not sure what he would’ve said. The wrong thing, probably.

“What are you kids still doing here? It’s time to get to class,” Mr. Unknown Name grumbles. They don’t have to be told twice. They jump to their feet, laughing nervously, leaving the room with their untouched lunches in hand, trying to eat as much as possible while powerwalking to their classes. When they arrive outside of Cyrus’s classroom, they look at each other again, both of them red in the face.

“So, I’ll see you after school?” TJ asks hopefully. Like Cyrus was ever going to say no.

“Yeah, sounds great.” They smile at each other for the twentieth time in past half hour. TJ grabs Cyrus’s hand for a second before letting go, flexing his fingers and scratching the back of his neck. He nods and departs, breaking into a sprint halfway down the hall when Cyrus realizes TJ’s class is on the complete opposite side of the school. He doesn’t like to get his hopes up over stupid things, but it’s just a little hard not to when the boy you like walks you to class.

He sits down at his desk, his phone vibrating twice after a minute. When he checks his messages the first one is from Andi.

_You weren’t at lunch!_

He taps out a quick response, omitting the part of the story where he willingly got into a stolen golf cart with TJ before checking the other.

_piano lessons start at 3:30 ❤️_

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! send me prompts at jockgaytj.tumblr.com


End file.
